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Making Peace With The Past

In 2000, my youngest brother died from brain cancer (glioblastoma). My entire worldview was turned upside down. I no longer had four brothers. How could that be? The loss left a hole in my heart.

At the time of his death my mother made a decision, without consulting the rest of the family, to have my brother cremated and his ashes interred at Calvary Episcopal Church in Asheville, North Carolina.

My objection was that he was not from North Carolina and we were Catholic and I just didn’t think it was what he would have wanted. But he was no longer available to ask. The whole thing felt wrong to me, but that was my mother. I don’t fault her.

Visiting the cemetery this week, I did not expect to find a view of the mountains in the distance and the most beautiful little Gothic-style brick church.

The stained glass fills the church with light

There were pillows and kneeling cushions lovingly hand stitched by parishioners.

We were shown around by a delightful church secretary who opened the church and gave us a history lesson.

All in all, after shedding a few tears, I felt closure for the first time since he died, 25 years ago.

The final surprising piece was that the original homestead where the church now stands was purchased by a Brit named Daniel Blake. My brother’s daughter is named Blake and her partner is Daniel!

DOS TORTAS

Tags: adult sibling relationships, glioblastoma, making peace, retire mexico

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The Year My Uncle Spiked The Eggnog

21 Dec

Making eggnog is a true labor of love. Separate the eggs and whip the whites until they form perfect peaks. Beating egg whites was always accompanied by the story of how my grandmother used to achieve perfection using only a fork and willpower. Her forearm must have rivaled an Olympic weightlifter.

Nan on her 81st birthday wearing a wig because she hated her thinning hair. She lived just shy of 95.

Next came the heavy cream, again beat into submission. Vanilla, nutmeg, all came together in Mom’s glass punch bowl, only used for the heavenly concoction.

My grandfather wanted us to call him Uncle Ed so his coworkers didn’t know he was a grandfather.

Christmas dinner brought family together. My grandmother and Jewish grandfather were long divorced, but that didn’t keep them from both showing up. My grandfather’s sister, Aunt Tillie was a favorite guest as well. Uncle Jack made a foursome and the folding table was brought out for a raucous game of poker, complete with trash talk and accusations of cheating.

Uncle Jack lived to be 100. His daily drink of Jack Daniel’s never slowed him down.

Mom proudly presented the “perfectly chilled” eggnog, high cholesterol in a glass. When no one was looking, my dear uncle brought out his flask and dumped the contents into the eggnog. Of course this meant that the children could not partake, not to mention that neither of my parents drank.

I’ve never seen my mother so angry, and that’s saying something. Lightening was flashing from her eyes. I think if she could have gotten away with it, there would have been a Christmas Murder that year. Ah, siblings.

I invite you to whip up this delectable treat. Feel free to empty your flask, but only in your own glass, please. You’ll never drink store-bought again.

DOS TORTAS

Lots of “folding” creates heaven in a glass.

Tags: adult sibling relationships, Christmas drama, eggnog recipe, retire mexico

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Staying Present

23 Dec

I grew up with four brothers. We were not a “touchy feely” family and scattered to the four winds as soon as we reached adulthood. My oldest brother, almost nine years my senior, left home at seventeen to join the military. We spent very little time together after that.

My first Christmas, held by my big brother. 1952

Ken was the black sheep. He was often the brunt of family jokes. During his recent visit to Bacalar I learned quite a lot about him. I’ve always known that he was extremely intelligent. He is painfully smart, we’re talking a human walking encyclopedia smart. And I got a glimpse of how difficult that sort of brain has made his life.

Before our youngest brother was born. Circa 1956

Lisa and I took turns hanging out with him. She had far more patience. I did my best to practice being present and not letting our familial relationship get in the way.

It was clear that Ken was very glad to be spending time with me. It felt nice to have him see my life. We showed him around our little corner of the globe, ate good food (made by us and at local eateries) and went through photos and movies. We talked family history and shared memories. It was good.

I admit that I was nervous about him coming to visit. Not all my childhood memories of growing up with four brothers are good ones. None of us had a perfect childhood and adult sibling relationships can be complicated. He is eighty years old and I’m sorry it’s taken us this long.